


It's not what's inside your shoe that matters, it's who wants to see it.

by msraven



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Fluff, Getting Together, M/M, crack!fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-09
Updated: 2015-02-09
Packaged: 2018-03-11 09:25:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3322307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/msraven/pseuds/msraven
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Phil has small feet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's not what's inside your shoe that matters, it's who wants to see it.

**Author's Note:**

> A little cracky fic inspired by my needing to glue the little Phil figure onto a stand (next to little Clint, of course) to get him to stay upright.
> 
> Un-beta'd, so the mistakes are mine.

Phil has small feet. It’s an odd twist of genetics that he can’t control. He's not ashamed of them, but after years of high school sports and boot camp, Phil has gotten tired of the inevitable jokes and innuendo about the size of his dick—which is actually larger than average. When he gets assigned his first deployment, Phil orders boots two sizes bigger than he’d normally wear and makes himself some inserts to fill the extra space. It takes him a few tries to get the inserts just right and a few more tries to make them consistently. By the time Phil becomes a senior agent in SHIELD, he has a cobbler making the inserts for him and doesn’t think of them any more than he does his socks and underwear.

It seems like an innocuous secret until he and Barton are caught by a small group of Hydra-wannabes and one enterprising goon thinks that shooting off Phil’s toe would be a great way to make him talk. Phil feels a small burst of heat around his actual toes, but doesn’t so much as blink in response. Barton’s reaction is much more pronounced.

Within five minutes, the six goons holding the are dead or unconscious. Barton kneels at Phil’s feet, still shrugging off the remains of the wooden chair he’d been tied to, and starts to reach for Phil’s foot.

"It’s fine," Phil insists. "Untie me so we can search this place and get back to the safe house."

"They hurt you," Barton growls and Phil is taken aback by the wildness in his eyes.

"I’m not hurt, I promise. Barton… Clint. Listen to me. My foot is uninjured. You need to get me out of this chair so we can do our jobs and then go somewhere safe. I will explain all of it to you when we’re there. Do you understand me?”

Clint stares at Phil for another few beats before shaking off the remnants of his anger and reverts back to the seasoned field agent he is. They don’t speak as they search the small house they’d been held in—finding nothing substantial. Clint remains silent through the trip to the safe house, but Phil doesn’t miss his glance at Phil’s foot once they’ve checked the security and locked themselves down.

Phil sighs and sit at the edge of the bed, taking off his ruined shoe and sock, and giving his undamaged toes a wiggle.

"I wear inserts to make my feet look bigger," Phil says, knowing his ears are pink and not feeling brave enough to lift his eyes from where they’re looking at his bare foot. "It’s a little embarrassing."

Phil keeps his eyes down as Clint comes into his field of vision, kneeling at Phil’s feet like he’d done when he thought Phil was hurt.

"Why?"

"Hiding a small flaw feels like vanity."

"No. I meant, why hide?" Clint runs a finger lightly over the top of Phil’s foot and Phil shivers involuntarily. "There’s nothing wrong with any part of you."

Phil’s eyes finally snap up to meet Clint’s and the tender care he sees in them makes his heartbeat speed up.

"I… I got sick of hearing jokes about my dick." Clint frowns in confusion and impressively doesn’t look away from Phil’s eyes. "You know. Jokes about how small feet must mean I have an equally small dick—which I don’t! It doesn’t matter to me that I have small feet, but hearing the same lame jokes over and over got old really fast and so it seemed easier just to nip the whole thing in the bud and I…"

Phil huffs in frustration and looks away, hearing for the first time how silly this whole thing really is now that he’s trying to explain his reasoning to Clint. He starts to stand, but Clint places his hand flat on Phil’s foot to pin him in place. Phil turns back to meet Clint’s steady gaze.

"There’s nothing wrong with any part of you,” Clint repeats, his statement heavy with everything they feel, but haven’t yet acknowledged.

Phil leans forward, chasing Clint’s words with a kiss. Clint kisses back and, when they pull apart after a few more kisses, his eyes are shining with happiness.

"You’ll have to wait until we’re home and after I’ve cooked you a proper dinner to see the rest," Phil says softly. "I want to take my time showing you just how much I return the sentiment."

"Deal," Clint grins and gently picks Phil’s foot up off the ground. "Until then…" Clint presses his thumb into the arch of Phil’s foot, making him groan at how good it feels. "I give awesome foot rubs.

 

~^~

_A few months later…_

Phil gives Clint a hello kiss before sitting on the couch sideways and laying his socked feet in Clint’s lap.

"Everything okay at HQ?" Clint asks, automatically starting to rub at Phil’s feet without taking his eyes away from the television. Clint’s still recovering from a bad ankle sprain and won’t be going back into HQ for a few more days.

"Nothing out of the norm. I did hear something interesting when I was getting changed after the training session with the new junior agents."

"Yeah? What? They still going on about whether there’s really a laser behind Fury’s eye patch?"

"No, actually. I guess there are new rumors going around about me." Clint turns toward him with a scowl. "Nothing bad," Phil adds quickly and waits for Clint’s expression to smooth out. "There are apparently several theories floating around about what happened to my feet."

Clint’s face is pure innocence, confirming exactly where these rumors started.

"Some think they got run over by a tank while I was single-handedly taking down an entire Hydra base. A few say that I was injured having to walk into a volcano to dismantle a bomb." A corner of Clint’s mouth twitches minutely. "I have to say my favorite was that I’d lost parts of my feet when I was saving a fellow agent from drowning and got bitten by a shark."

"Ooh! I hadn’t heard that one."

Phil sits up, sliding his feet off Clint’s lap and taking one of his hands. “Was any of that really necessary?”

"No," Clint responds easily. "I know you were worried, but nobody’s gonna dare messing with you. Your reputation as a badass more than precedes you."

"Then why start the rumors?"

Clint shrugs and grins. “For fun. And I only started the volcano one.”

Phil shakes his head fondly and pulls Clint in for a kiss. He can save telling Clint the one where Hawkeye slew a dragon to save Phil—but not before his feet had been lost to the dragon’s breath—for later.

~ _fin_ ~


End file.
